Page 33 of Felonies are Forever

Her soft sighs of contentment bring me back.

“You good, baby?”

“Yes.” Her sleepy word and the little shift in her hips tells me she’s forgotten all about her piece of shit father going to prison.

“Good girl.” Our breaths fall into sync as we come down from our orgasms. I let my fingertips trace up from her waist, watching the goosebumps rise on her flesh. I follow the soft S turns of her body, up, then down from her shoulder until I get to her hand. I pull it up and look at the ring I placed there the day we returned from Jamaica.

“I love you, you brute. I need you.” She whispers the words softly into my ear and my heart swells. To be loved and needed by her drives me every day to be a better man. For her. For us. For our children. For me.

She makes me complete.

“I need you too, little bird. More than you could ever imagine.”

I’m a tough strap of leather, but this little girl can drop me to my knees with just a look. But our love surrounds us. Makes a shield that tells the world we are stronger together and nothing can penetrate the bond we share. I never imagined love at all, but a love like this?

Damn, no fucking way. This is some next level shit. And if anyone had try to convince me that something like this could happen to anyone, let alone a punk like me, I would have smacked the stupid out of them.

But here I am, blurry eyed, looking at the ring on her finger and imagining our baby growing in her belly.

And the others that will come soon enough.

EPILOGUE TWO

Epilogue Two

CEE CEE

Six Years Later

Thadeus, Jr.’s little stone school used to be a church, and the very same stone mason that built it also built our house. We moved here two years ago, and we only live five minutes away, but we are still late for his kindergarten graduation.

Our new house sits on a hill, hugged on three sides by a combination of towering pines and hundred year old oaks. We are rapidly filling the six bedrooms with our brood, leaving the house is in a constant state of chaos, but I don’t mind.

June in Michigan is stunning, especially where we live in an area called the Irish Hills. Green and rolling, where people move slow and take time to chat. The grocery clerk knows just how ripe you like your bananas and saves some for you every day, just in case you come by.

It rained early this morning. A seductive rumble of thunder woke me to find Thorne kissing his way down my naked body until his tongue entered me in my usual good morning from him.The rain hit the windows as thunder and lightning heightened the mood and intensity of our love making. Thorne’s desire for me has increased over the years. Especially after the babies, when I’d rather cover my body and turn the lights out—he becomes all the more ravenous for me. I count my lucky stars every day for a man like him.

“Baby, you are killing me. You know that?” Thorne is giving the glare. I secretly love it though, because it means I’m in trouble and when I’m in trouble, I know I’m in for a nice swat on the ass later followed by a good, Thorne style, rough fuck. A hair pulling, throat grabbing, push my face down into the pillow and take what’s his, kind of fuck.

Swoon. He’s such a romantic.

It’s not a disincentive to misbehave mind you, but we both secretly know that and still we play along because even after our years together there is a direct connection between the sweet pain he gives me and my sweet spot.

“I’m coming.”

I have Becky on my hip. She turned three a few weeks ago. Thorne is cradling Noah, our newest at four months against his chest.

He’s doing that little knee bounce thing that he does when Noah is asleep, trying his darndest to keep it that way.

“You are so sexy when you hold the babies,” I whisper in a throaty voice as I step past him toward the door of the school. “Makes me want to make another one right now.”

I hear the rumble in his throat and I know my words are making him hard.

I so love making him hard. That sense of power. The knowledge that he still wants me so much. It is an aphrodisiac like no other.

His hand falls to the small of my back and we make our way toward the open door of the school.

“Do they really need to graduate from kindergarten?” The slight annoyance in my voice sends Thorne’s hand from my back to my neck, sweeping under the line of my hair and gripping slightly, pulling the anxiety from me in an instant.

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